


Spare Leather

by softnotlizzie



Series: Tommy's Interludes [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Again, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Author Is Not Religious, Dialogue Light, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, Introspection, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), author is projecting, did someone say Tommy villain arc??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softnotlizzie/pseuds/softnotlizzie
Summary: Tommy's Interlude Part Two! The first did super well it made me so happy! I wasn't planning on another but you know recent events happened and now here we are. Welcome to Tommy's thoughts throughout the process of his trial and the aftermath. Warning, this is pretty heavy on Tommy villain arc. It's also kind of destructive to many of Tommy's relationships and implies some strong trust issues. (Me projecting again.) But I'd love it if you took a look! I do think the writing is pretty good for me and it helped me get my feelings on paper. Important to note that I'm a massive Tommy sympathizer and I will almost always side with him lol.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Tommy's Interludes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033278
Comments: 4
Kudos: 105





	Spare Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again SO MUCH for the feedback on the first interlude. I almost cried, seriously. It's so fucking cool that people actually see my writing and enjoy it enough to say something or interact in any way. I'm always here if anyone wants to talk or rant or just chat about the events of the SMP! I love talking to people for real, don't be shy! (Although I'm super shy too so...) I'm also really active on tumblr, same user! I'd love if you came to hang out with me there as well! Love yall to pieces! Enjoy!

Tommy had never known such anger.

This was, of course, a lie.

Tommy had known and felt and seen and smelt and experienced plenty of such anger before in his life. The kind of anger that leaves you feeling completely set alight. The kind that would let you push your own brother into a pit of fiery lava. The kind that knows no reason, no bounds, and absolutely no guilt. This kind of anger, though he often made it seem as though it wasn’t was extremely rare in Tommy’s little cabinet of emotions.

Sure, he ran around with a scowl on his face and he yelled and he punched and he swore. He cursed Sapnap out (and he deserved it) and was not afraid to call Dream a dickhead—to his face. Of course, he wasn’t. This was Tommy we were talking about.

But he’d do it all, and throw his little fit, and then he’d move on. Laugh about something or other until his throat felt sore. He rarely even considered himself angry—just absolutely overwhelmed with justified and, as a wise man once said, masculine passion. 

No, this anger was different.

People called him an angry child. Or an angry muffin, if you happened to be a misguided pussy, in Tommy’s opinion. They’d point at him and laugh at what they perceived as anger because it made them feel better. Made them feel like they weren’t just ignoring the fact that Tommy’s true anger was so much worse than a couple curse words and a volume just over the comfortable level.

That’s about where Tommy was now. 

Angry to the point where he almost wanted to shout in Tubbo’s face that No, he didn’t care about L’manburg. It could crash and burn for all he cared. What was there that was left to fight for anyway?

That was a separate argument.

Probation.

Fine. That wasn’t even what was bothering him. He’d done something stupid, as always, and was facing the consequences, as always. He had no qualms with this. Tommy hurt Dream; Dream say “no.” It was almost a daily occurrence. Today’s situation was just an extension. Tommy hurt Dream’s little boy toy; Dream say “no.”

Tommy knew Fundy would object to the wording of that one, and this fact made it feel even more satisfying. 

So, no, he didn’t truly mind that Dream had thrown one of his own little fits and put up some walls around his city. L’manburg was no stranger to walls. Wilbur himself had taught them to see the walls as protective measures and a sense of nationality rather than a representation of the threats of the outside world. Now, granted, the walls had cut off a significant portion of what was rightfully L’manburg land and they were made of annoying obsidian, but it was nothing a few dedicated hours and a diamond pickaxe or two couldn’t fix. 

Really, Tommy couldn’t see the severity of the situation. Why was everyone flipping out?

Either way, it’s now been proven that Tommy could not have cared less about that pesky little addition. 

What got on his nerves, what tested his truly resilient patience, what itched into his bones and punctured the very meat of his soul, was that his own people had turned against him.

He questioned whether they—Quackity, Fundy, and fucking Tubbo—knew what their actions did to Tommy’s brain.

He was able to come to terms with the fact that burning George’s stupid little mushroom had been a mistake. The pleasure had not outweighed the annoyance of its impacts. And honestly, Tommy fully believed that the whole thing could’ve been done with. Dream’s petulant ass had demanded punishment for Tommy, or whatever. So Tubbo would say, “Bad, Tommy,” and he wouldn’t mean it, and the ordeal could’ve been over and done with. 

What people often failed to realize was that Tommy did learn from his mistakes. He made bad decisions—of course he did. Who fucking didn’t?—but he always came to the reality of the matter and was able to decide if what he had done was helpful or harmful. Sometimes the decision was hard. Sometimes he knew that others wouldn’t agree with his final say, and adjusted accordingly. But what mattered in the end was that he did it at all. Tommy made the decision and analyzed it.

I mean, how else would he have gotten out of that most recent situation with Sapnap alive? He wanted to trust the man when he said it could all be over. Tommy remembered what he’d said: something about Tommy giving up the fish in return for his horse, and the conflict would be resolved. Even further, Sapnap had promised Tommy alliance in future wars, and had given him some sob story about how he was ready for the two to work together.

Everyone failed to realize that Tommy could’ve made some very bad decisions there. And hell, he fucking wanted to. Tommy wanted to latch onto that rope and pull, give himself a chance at a better life for himself, his country, and his discs. He didn’t give a fuck about the fish; he didn’t even really care about his own horse. A bond with Sapnap was infinitely more valuable.

But he’d done the math. Tommy thought, within those precious seconds, about every interaction he’d ever had with Sapnap. Every single thing each of them had ever said to each other, including every sly comment and out-of-place insult. He ran through the bad decisions he’d made regarding the older, and the good ones. Something had obviously come out on top.

Tommy remembered pointing out what Sapnap had said that day, about some “once a hunter, always a hunter” shit. Even if it was cheesy, sappy, shit, it was the truth. And Tommy had been able to acknowledge that. And in the end, he’d made a good decision. Wilbur would’ve agreed with him, would scuffed Tommy’s hair a bit as a silent confirmation. That Tommy had done good.

He was glad he’d made that decision, because Sapnap certainly was not on his side now. Rambling about Tommy hurting his king or some fucked up shit. (There was much wrong with this. First of all, calm the fuck down. Second of all, Tommy never touched little Gogy.) Tommy could hear his sick, taunting voice in his head.

That was it, what had gotten Tommy in the end. The taunting. It’s what pushed him over the edge of ever being able to laugh about what happened today. 

He’d been reduced to nothing. Absolutely nothing.

His countrymen—his friends—had sat and watched, had laughed, as Tubbo took everything from Tommy, and didn’t even see the heaviness of his actions.

Dream had called for punishment. And Tommy had never, ever expected Tubbo to follow Dream, like a little sheep, scared of the big green man. But Tubbo had delivered.

Wilbur wouldn’t have done that. 

Tommy listened, face feeling as though it might combust, as Tubbo sentenced him to some sort of fucking house arrest. Tommy couldn’t even monitor the words spewing out of his mouth; there was no point. He stared Tubbo dead in the eyes, but in his peripheral vision he could see Quackity, Fundy, and George all cackling at Tommy’s downfall. Together. 

That’s when he lost Quackity and Fundy.

It had taken Tommy a while, especially after his home blew into smithereens, to trust either of them. Day after day he watched and tensed and listened until some part of him had grown comfortable around the two. Fundy, even, despite his betrayal so long ago. Some part of him that Tommy had never acknowledged wanted to believe that they were okay now. He wanted to believe that he had a couple more people behind him, having his back.

Not anymore. Tommy was brutally reminded, from behind iron bars and a block of that stupid fucking obsidian, that there was only one person he could really trust.

Tubbo. Tommy tried so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this was a good decision. Maybe Tommy had really been wrong this time around. Tubbo wouldn’t do something just to hurt Tommy, just to ground his resilience even further into ashes. 

Then Tubbo pushed the button and let Tommy fall headfirst into a burning inferno. Tommy’s own quick reflexes saved him from instant death, placing water and watching as it hardened all that lava into more fucking obsidian. 

The lava went straight into Tommy’s heart. For a minute or two, Tommy couldn’t look at Tubbo at all. Knew that if he did, he’d betray the true extent of his anger, and Tubbo might actually realize that Tommy had never, ever, been put together. Had never been confident. Had never felt safe. That was too much to risk. 

He couldn’t hear anything, either, besides the hiss of cold meeting hot and his own blood pounding into his eardrums. Then the laugh bubbled in, and as much as he had hated the silence, he very suddenly wished for it back. 

Ignoring them as best he could, Tommy climbed up and out of the pit, meeting no eyes and acknowledging no taunts. 

“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it, Tommy?”

“Look at him, just look at him!”

Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

More than anything, Tommy wanted to walk straight out of that stupid fucking courthouse and never come back. He hoped it burned. He hoped it took just a little of L’manburg out with it.

“…Mr. President?” came the hesitant voice of one Karl Jacobs. “What do we do with this Rambo guy?”

And honestly, if Tommy weren’t so beyond any sort of coherent thought himself, he probably would’ve felt for the guy.

As it was, Tommy managed to turn on one heel and face the rest of them, cooling slightly with the fact that their attention was no longer on him.

“Oh, yeah…” said Tubbo. He sounded tired.

“That’s true!” shouted George, and he seemed just a bit too excited for sentencing a couple of teenagers to vicious punishments, but okay.

“No, he wasn’t—” Tommy began, really shocking himself by speaking up, especially on Ranboo’s behalf. He certainly had not been planning on it. Unsurprisingly, no one in the room listened. 

He’d kind of gotten used to the fact that people didn’t really acknowledge him unless he was yelling. Now, it was even worse.

“Listen to me,” Tommy raised his voice, but fought to keep it calm. He did not look at Tubbo, or Fundy, or Quackity. Instead, he locked eyes with Ranboo himself. The man who’d been right by his side during the entire ordeal. Tommy had seen the reflection of the fire in Ranboo’s mismatched eyes, and had become completely enlightened of what power he truly held. “Ranboo wasn’t there.”

Tommy poured all his stupid, little, fake confidence into his voice. He refused to let it shake, despite the way his entire body was trembling. He hoped against hope that he would not betray the rage blasting through his veins. 

“It was just me,” Tommy said, and nodded to Ranboo just enough for him to take notice. Tommy watched as Ranboo’s eyes sparkled with unspoken words, and saw the corner of his mouth quirk just slightly. Ranboo had been the only one to keep silent during Tommy’s demotion. And though Tommy knew that he probably shouldn’t, the younger would spare him for that. Maybe earn him something helpful in the future. “’Twas the perfect crime.”

“Okay, then. From now on, every action you take will be reported.” Came Tubbo’s voice, prime with authority. Tommy forced himself to meet his friend’s eyes. “You have literally put our country in jeopardy.”

The rage boiled up again, and it was all Tommy could do to turn away and start walking. He knew Tubbo was following him, and hoped for both of their sakes that he wouldn’t.

“You’re a liability, Tommy.”

One could only imagine. 

One could only think to try to believe what that sentence did to Tommy as a person. He felt his entire being shift. Was that it? Was that what Tommy was?

Not a soldier. Not a warrior. Not a two-term Vice President. Not trusted with national security and foreign affairs by two leaders of two separate nations, for years on end. 

Not a friend?

A liability. 

Wow. 

When Tommy had passed the presidency back to Wilbur, on that one day he very frequently chose not to think about, he’d done it because he had known and made public that his intentions were to get his discs back, and that was all. He’d trusted Wil, despite his mental falling out, despite his wavering ability to maintain control. Maybe the others hadn’t seen it, but Tommy had known Wilbur would keep his L’manburg safe.

And though it wasn’t Tommy who’d chosen Tubbo to be president, he’d still felt safe under him. Of course, he had. It was Tubbo. Tommy was happy for him. And Tommy knew Tubbo would do what it took to keep the nation safe. 

This, Tommy concluded, was not it. 

The group behind him just kept talking, following Tommy’s lead. Tommy had no idea where he was even going. 

“You realize you’re Vice President, Tommy?” Quackity asked in a tone that made Tommy genuinely want to punt him into the sun.

Fundy chimed in, “You’re not just a civilian!”

Tommy kept silent. 

Actually, no.

Tommy whirled around, facing Tubbo and no one else. Tubbo flinched backwards just slightly at the sudden movement, and Tommy took a sick sort of satisfaction in noting that. “Tubbo, I told you long ago, my goal is to get my discs back. I’m out for the discs, and that’s it.”

Tubbo didn’t even open his mouth. Fundy, however, did. “Yeah, but you’re the Vice President! Your actions are going to have consequences on our nation!”

Tommy had been speaking to Tubbo, and he wanted nothing more than to tell Fundy this, perhaps in the form of a dropkick, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t help his case.

“And until you learn that,” Tubbo began, in a voice that was completely unfamiliar to Tommy. “You’re gonna have to stay on probation.”

And just to make matters worse, Tommy’s eye caught on some sparkling black armor and he barely held himself back from reigning absolute chaos. 

He pushed past Tubbo, even though he heard the man continue talking. Tommy honestly failed to give a single shit what he had to say at this point. 

All he did was come within a few feet of Dream and just stare. He wanted to see what the man would do. What else he just had to say.

Apparently, Tubbo had caught up to him. Dream sent Tommy a certifiably evil smirk, and began speaking to someone behind Tommy. He did not look.

“Probation isn’t enough.” 

Tubbo sighed. “I know you suggested exile, but…”

This was fucking news to Tommy. And the fact that Tubbo could mention it so carelessly? The blood roared in his ears once more, and he missed whatever shit Dream spewed in return.

Until—

“I have his disc.” 

Radio-silence. After Tubbo spoke, no one even moved. Tommy’s heart practically stopped. He could not believe… he simply couldn’t…

“What…” Tommy finally spoke, and he hated how defeated he sounded. How his voice truly made him sound like a child.

“Tommy, you’ve done enough,” is what Tubbo said, and he didn’t even look at him.

Tommy couldn’t even describe his anger. Could do nothing but stand there staring, and let all the words he wanted, needed to say run endlessly through his mind. 

“Tubbo, I gave you that disc specifically to prove that I trusted you.”

For the first time in his life…

Tommy was doing something he had always counted on never doing.

He was beginning to rethink that decision.

Here was Tubbo, his only companion, the only person who he’d unfailingly relied on through hell and back, taunting him, reducing him to nothing but dust, using Tommy’s only source of pride as a bargaining chip.

He turned away.

He didn’t want to, but Tommy knew right then that if he did not distance himself as far as humanly possible from this group of people, he’d only get himself further into trouble. And while he wanted to say “fuck it” and absolutely go apeshit, Tommy forced himself to rationalize against every instinct he’d ever had.

Tubbo didn’t seem to know what was good for him.

Followed Tommy, alone, this time, and rambled on. Ranted and whined and complained about Tommy and everything he’d ever done wrong and justifying his own actions. Tommy was blocking him out completely. Walking faster, and weaving in an attempt to give Tubbo the idea that he needed to absolutely fuck. Off. 

He didn’t seem to get it.

In an event that might later be recorded as historical, Tubbo reached out and grabbed Tommy’s wrist.

For just one moment, the worst possible moment, Tommy allowed himself to act without thinking. He spun so quickly he gave himself whiplash, didn’t even care that Tubbo flinched so violently. As if he thought Tommy would ever hurt him.

But maybe he would.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.”

Maybe Tommy had finally lost it.

Tubbo’s fingers lost their hold in his moment of shock, and Tommy turned away. He knew Tubbo was not following him. Knew that the older boy was just stood there, watching, as Tommy turned his back on him for the first time.

Tommy was truly angry now. The kind of anger he had been so successful in hiding all his life. The kind of anger that showed itself in that quiet, heart-rumbling tone of voice. 

The kind of anger that turned people into villains.

Tommy did not give himself any rein to even think about it. 

Fine. 

An hour from now, Tommy would’ve been able to suffocate that anger. Then he’d return to Tubbo, book in hand, and tell him he’d comply. He’d hand the diary off to Fundy, let him laugh, and go home. Wherever home was.

Tommy found himself wishing that Wilbur was still here. He found himself wondering how things would’ve been different with Wil still in charge. What if Tommy had helped him, all those months ago, from the beginning? What if Tommy had been by his side while he planted the TNT? Would he feel better now? Would he have rather died to his own weapon, by his own father’s hand, than be stripped of the only thing Tommy could maintain without falter? His pride?

Right now, Tommy wanted to run. He wanted to leave the whole thing behind. Fuck Dream, and fuck Tubbo, and honestly, fuck L’manburg. He was struggling to consider it even worth it. He almost wished he could find Technoblade, and ask “How can I help?” Right now, Tommy really did want to burn the whole thing to the fucking ground. 

Perhaps he was just following in Wilbur’s footsteps. Perhaps that had been his fate all along. No matter how hard he’d tried to avoid it, it would always chase him back to here. Perhaps the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. 

Maybe…

Just maybe…

It was never meant to be.


End file.
